


Tranquility

by anovelblogwrites



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-26 21:54:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 4,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12067719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anovelblogwrites/pseuds/anovelblogwrites
Summary: Theodore Nott probably shouldn't have been wandering the corridors alone, but he was. When his late night stroll takes a turn for the worst, Theodore is met with an unlikely hero.





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> me: *becomes invested in very obscure ship*
> 
> me: *immediately must create more content*

While the towers and spires of Hogwarts had not changed, there was a new darkness that draped over the castle. The grey sky was dotted with Dementors, swirling above the grounds. 

Explicitly speaking, the Dementors were supposed to stay up there. And although the new Headmaster paid little attention to the Carrows and the misery they inflicted on the students, he made it clear that Dementors were not to enter the castle. 

However, that didn’t always stop the creatures from slipping into the corridors. 

Theodore Nott started running as soon as goosebumps appeared on his arms, but he wasn’t quick enough. The massive shadow was looming over him, turning his blood to ice. His heart froze too. The bone-chilling nothingness had enveloped him completely. Darkness was creeping on the corners of his vision like ink in water. 

Then, out of nowhere, a brilliant ball of light. Iridescent blue, and as painful to the eyes as the sun, it swirled around him, banishing both the dementor and the numbness in his extremities. He was able to focus on the light just long enough to see that it was the shape of a rabbit. The figure hopped through the air, before vanishing into the darkness. 

His head whipped around hard enough to hurt his neck. A few paces behind him, tucking her wand behind her ear, stood Luna Lovegood. He blinked a few times, just to make sure he wasn’t imagining her. The moment he decided that yes, this is real, Luna Lovegood just saved his life--she was hovering over him, extending a hand. 

Theodore’s knees were still shaking when she hauled him off the ground. She did not let go of his hand, even after steadied himself. He did not tear himself away from her gentle grasp. 

When he looked down at her, she was smiling at him. It was a small smile, tight-lipped and precariously placed. Much like any other rare smile Theodore had encountered, it didn’t quite reach her pale eyes. But there was something different about that half-smile Luna offered. 

It was the only one that compelled him to smile back. The shift in his cheeks felt foreign. Her hand squeezed around his hand once, before she disappeared down the hallway.


	2. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am extra and created a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/pqmlpubie968pa34f5n4zyt38/playlist/2gAxJ8ifG1GA7P49D6CZRc/) for this story.

There was not a spectacular amount of research on the Patronus Charm. Theodore was able to lay all of it out in front of him on his corner table in the library. He scanned through the pages feverishly, hoping to find casting techniques among the origin stories and practical functions. But, all he found were various speculations and contradictory theories. Only one idea seemed to be universally accepted by the scholars: there are some witches and wizards that simply are not happy enough to produce a Patronus. 

Theodore had never considered himself to be _un_ happy. He’d lived a relatively charmed life; he wanted for little, and found companionship at Hogwarts. But when he tried to find a specific memory to latch onto, Theo came up empty. Darkness lurked around him, tightening its grip. It lived inside him; the little boy, lost and alone. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to piece together an image of his mother--her smile, her arms around him, anything. 

“ _Expecto patronum_ ,” he commanded, his voice fracturing the quiet of the night. A whisper of blue light flickered at the tip of his wand like a candle’s flame. Theo sighed deeply and ran a frustrated hand through his hair, pulling at the roots. 

“Try not to get discouraged.” 

Theo whirled around with his wand out, but the hex he was about to cast died on his tongue when he found himself facing Luna Lovegood, her wand alight in her hand. He blinked dubiously at her. She continued as though he wasn’t pointing his wand at her throat, “It just makes it harder.” 

He slowly lowered his arm, frowning. “What’re you doing here?” 

She shrugged, dismissing him entirely. Keen eyes landed on his wand. “You’ve been practicing the Patronus Charm?” 

“Hardly,” he responded flatly. He hoped that his biting tone would distract from the color blooming in his cheeks. Theo was not sure if it was the prolonged failure, or his obsession with the spell that embarrassed him. If it was the way he tried again and again whenever he was alone, or the consuming fear that compelled him to do so. Fear for the next time a Dementor found him, and he couldn’t run fast enough, or dive into a broom cupboard, or be rescued by Luna Lovegood. 

They always found him. 

She searched him with those strange, pale blue eyes. Unnerved, Theodore felt himself go rigid, the hair on the back of his neck stood up. There was something about the way Luna Lovegood looked at him that made him feel infinitesimal. It was if she was peering right through his skin, and discovering that he was completely hollow inside. 

“It won’t always be like this,” she said thoughtfully, after a long time. Theo wasn’t sure if she meant the war, or him but either way, he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe her. 

“I’ll walk with you back to your common room.” He looked down to find her offering a hand to him, not unlike that night in the corridor. 

His eyes rolled. “I don’t need an escort, Lovegood.” 

She didn’t seem to notice the harsh edge in his voice, for Luna Lovegood only smiled at him. “But perhaps you could use a friend.”


	3. three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/pqmlpubie968pa34f5n4zyt38/playlist/2gAxJ8ifG1GA7P49D6CZRc/) i created for this story.

Despite the mid-October chill, Luna was up to her ankles in the Black Lake. Although she had insisted that the water wasn’t that cold, Theo declined the invitation to join her, and stood a few paces behind the shore. 

“We shouldn’t be here.” 

“Don’t worry about the giant squid. He’s rather mild tempered,” Luna shrugged. “Most of his kind are. They just have bad eyesight, you see.” 

Her lip quirked into a half smile at her joke. Theo didn’t smile back. 

“I don’t mean the squid.” He could sometimes see the creature through the window by his bed, and he stopped being disturbed by it third year. “I meant that we shouldn’t be outside. Together. It's dangerous.” 

“You never struck me as somebody who cared much about the rules,” she mused. 

She was right, of course. For as long as Theo could remember, he’d kept to himself. The best part of being alone was that he got to make his own rules. This one had come to him the night Lovegood walked him to his dormitory. In the days since, Theo had been dragging his feet on the follow-through. 

“You and I are from separate worlds.” 

In a tone that narrowly fell short of argumentative, Luna replied, “Isn’t everybody?” 

“Lovegood,” he huffed her name out in exasperation. “I’m not--” 

He wanted to explain himself to her, break the news delicately. But there was nothing in this world that has ever broken delicately--that’s what made them broken--and words were failing him, so he yanked up his robe sleeve and thrust out his forearm. 

The ink was stark and angry against his skin. Her eyes were soft, and maybe a little sad as Luna studied the Mark. Her fingertips ghosted over his trembling arm, then, with much more gentleness than he had done, Luna rolled his sleeve back down. After she was done, her hand curled around his forearm. He could feel the warmth of it through the fabric of his robes. 

“Right now, Theodore,” she murmured, her gaze heavy, “Everything is dangerous.”


	4. four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here is the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/pqmlpubie968pa34f5n4zyt38/playlist/2gAxJ8ifG1GA7P49D6CZRc/) i created for this story.

Theo spent most of his time in the library for the solitude and the quiet, but for the past few days, Luna had taken to sitting across from him. They folded themselves into a distant corner, and slouched against the shelves. Theodore would get lost in his studies, as Luna busied herself with a book of her own, or wrote letters. But today, she was nestled into his side, craning her neck to read along with him. 

She was still peering at the diagrams of properly and improperly healed bones when she asked, “How long have you wanted to be a healer?” 

“For as long as I can remember, but….” Theodore frowned.

Luna sat back so she was looking directly at him, “But what?” 

“No healer is going to take me as an apprentice,” he mumbled, tugging self-consciously at his left sleeve. 

She regarded him thoughtfully, “I think you’d make an excellent healer.” 

“Really?” Theo couldn’t keep the skepticism out of his tone. Nobody had ever told him that, even before it became an impossibility. The last time he’d mentioned it was during second year. Pansy Parkinson snickered that he would _make the_ worst _healer. You’d scare your patients back to health!_

“Well,” the corner of Luna’s mouth twitched up into a playful smile. “Green does suit you,” she said, raising her hand to the knot of his tie and tugging it lightly. Her cold knuckles brushed only his neck, but a shiver raced down his spine. 

Theo wanted to joke back that the acidic green of St. Mungo’s robes made him look sallow, but he felt as though his heart was beating in his throat. Unwilling to trust his voice, he dipped his head in thanks before turning abruptly back to the pages in front of him.


	5. five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen to this [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/pqmlpubie968pa34f5n4zyt38/playlist/2gAxJ8ifG1GA7P49D6CZRc/) if you'd like.

Theodore was not looking for Luna when he found her. She was alone in a corridor, using her wand to manipulate the movement of a brush, dripping with red paint. A knot formed in the pit of his stomach when he saw what she was writing.

_DUMBLEDORE’S ARMY, STILL RECRUITING_

Either oblivious to, or intentionally ignoring his presence, Luna stepped back to admire her work from the perspective of someone walking down the hallway. As a little-known shortcut between the library and the courtyard, it wasn’t a busy area of the castle. But it got enough traffic that her message would be seen. It got enough traffic that someone, such as Theo himself, could stumble upon her as was writing it. 

What if it had been one of the Carrows that turned the corner, only to find Luna Lovegood with a paintbrush and rebellion in her hands?

Thoughts of what might happen to her blazed through his brain like Fiendfyre--suddenly and without mercy. The Cruciatus Curse was a favorite, but that wasn’t to say they wouldn’t put her under the Imperius Curse and make her scrub mindlessly at the wall until her fingers bled, as her eyes stared unblinkingly at the stone. The silvery-blue would lose it’s spark to the fog of the Curse, looking more dead than alive. 

“Do you think the red looks too much like blood?” Luna asked, finally acknowledging Theo. “I want it to stand out, but…” she trailed off, tilting her head to the side thoughtfully. 

“Luna,” his voice was strained. “What are you doing?” 

“Painting,” she hummed without turning around. 

Theo’s hand itched for his wand so he could cast a quick _scourgify_. Instead, he clenched his fists, squeezing the color out of his knuckles. Even if Theo did wash the message away, it wouldn’t make a difference. More, somehow, than Theodore wanted to save Luna, she wanted to save the world. 

He admired her for it--her bravery. He allowed himself to pretend that she could think the same of him when he said, “You could try blue.”


	6. six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you've somehow forgotten, there is a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/pqmlpubie968pa34f5n4zyt38/playlist/2gAxJ8ifG1GA7P49D6CZRc/) that I've made for this story.

On the third floor of the castle, there was a spiral staircase that led to nowhere. It was unknown whether this was a common occurrence within magical architecture, or if it was a feature specific to Hogwarts. Theodore sat alone on the thirty-ninth step, which was halfway between the third floor entrance and the precariously abrupt final step. The wind whistled between the cracks in the stone, and Theo was not sure if it was the sound or the chill that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. 

He withdrew his wand from his pocket, and used it to transfigure the broken quill he’d found at the bottom of his bag into a jar to contain a bluebell flame. The air warmed considerably, but Theo still sat rigidly upon the step.

It wasn’t until he heard delicate footsteps that the tension Theodore hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge ebbed out of him. Luna rounded the corner, offering him an apologetic smile and a cup of chocolate pudding. 

“I’m sorry,” she apologized as she sat down next to him. In the confinement of the stairwell, their shoulders were pressed together. She handed him his dessert. “Winky can be quite chatty.” 

Of course Luna was friends with the house elves. 

“It’s fine,” he said, and although he meant it, the words still came out tersely. 

But Luna understood. Taking his hand in hers, she softly promised, “I didn’t mean to worry you.” 

Theodore laced their fingers together and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before picking up his spoon. He swirled it around, trying to decide if he even liked chocolate pudding. Generally speaking, Theodore preferred his foods to be solid. 

Luna, it seemed, had enough enthusiasm for the both of them. As her lips closed around the spoon, her pale lashes fluttered closed and she let out a satisfied sigh. Theodore’s mouth suddenly felt dry. Swallowing hard, he looked away. In an effort to regain control of his thoughts, Theo began counting the cracks in the stone walls. 

“It’s strange,” Luna mused, shattering Theo’s fragile concentration. 

When he turned to face her properly, he realized their faces were only inches apart. His breathing became chaotic. “What’s strange?” 

“Pudding,” she answered which provided Theodore with more questions than clarity. He raised an eyebrow. “Everything else is so different, but the pudding is still the same. It’s just as sweet as it’s always been.” 

Theo shrugged, “Maybe everything else is just bitter.” 

Luna considered this, cocking her head to the side thoughtfully. The movement should have been imperceptible, but Theodore found that he was acutely aware of every breath separating his lips from Luna’s, soft and waiting like a question. 

With a tilt of his own chin, Theo’s lips were pressing gently against hers. He kissed Luna in deliberate strokes and languid slides that sent her lips chasing after his. 

Theodore was sure that chocolate had never tasted so sweet.


	7. seven

Theodore’s father was not in the habit of sending letters to his son. Even in Theo’s first year away from home, he did not receive small parcels of sweets, or updates of what was happening at Nott Manor. It wasn’t as if there was much to discuss, anyway. 

He did not even think to look up once owls began swooping and diving through the air in the Great Hall. When a letter dropped onto his breakfast plate, Theo thought there must have been a mistake, a flaw in trajectory. The deceptively unassuming scroll was spackled with strawberry jam when he plucked it off the platter, and pulled the white string loose. 

_Theodore,_

_Men achieve greatness, not infatuated schoolboys._

_The Dark Lord has no tolerance for traitors, and neither do I._

_Regards,  
Lyall Nott_

\---

“Are you alright?” Luna’s big eyes narrowed as she approached him, perceptive as ever.

The letter had been burning a hole in Theodore’s pocket all day. He could not shake the feeling that he was being watched. Which was, he supposed, because someone had been watching him. Theo cast a wary glance over each shoulder, trusting his peers lass than ever before. Luna’s eyes, under brows wrinkled with concern, followed the path of Theo’s. 

In a controlled voice, he asked, “Would you like to take a walk around the grounds?” 

Despite the snow falling in sheets and the bitter wind, Luna nodded immediately slipping her arm through the crook of Theodore’s elbow. He waited until they were nearly on the edge of the Forbidden Forest before pulling the crumpled parchment out of his pocket and wordlessly holding it out to Luna. 

She stared at the page for a long time, he watched her eyes scan over those two sentences over and over. He wondered what she was looking for: a motive, or a punchline, perhaps. Theodore knew better. In all his life, he hadn’t seen Lyall Nott so much as smile. 

Theodore was being threatened by his own father. The fist this war had wrapped around his neck tightened, there was no escaping it now. But the thought of it cracked through Theo’s brain as vehemently as thunder. He whisked the letter out of Luna’s fingers and replaced it with his hands. He squeezed them earnestly, “Let’s run away.” 

It was a childish notion--impossible, even--but with a rueful smile, Luna indulged him, “Where should we go?” 

“Anywhere you want,” He shelved this promise amongst the others in their library, ran his fingers over their spines carefully. He wanted to pull one out and dust it off, even if he couldn’t keep it. “France. America. Sweden.” 

Her eyes sparked, like she was surprised he remembered. Her smile grew. “I would like to find the Crumple-Horned Snorkack.” 

Theodore still wasn’t entirely convinced such a creature existed, but he’d still look with her. “We could build a cottage in the mountains.” 

“At the top, close to the stars,” she added dreamily. Luna’s eyes lifted to the heavy grey clouds, blinking up at them as though she could already see the constellations. Another gust of wind rushed between them, her blonde curls obscuring the pink of her cheeks as she shivered lightly.

Theo wound Luna’s scarf--which had been draped over her shoulders--around her neck, “We’ll need a big fireplace to keep us warm, all the way up there.” 

She nodded in agreement. “And we could plant a garden in the front.” 

He could picture it, then. The little house situated on the mountainside, surrounded by sprawling vegetation. Luna would spend all day in it, dirt smudging her cheeks and sunlight warming her hair. When the sun went down, and the mountain air started to bite, she would come inside. He would be waiting for her in his favorite chair, soaking in the glow and the warmth of the fire. 

“Beneath a dirigible plum tree,” he tucked her hair behind her ear to expose one of her earrings. 

Luna’s expression grew wistful, she reached up and clasped her hand around Theodore’s wrist. “To enhance the ability to accept the extraordinary,” her voice was solemn, “or the impossible.” 

As long as the Dark Lord was in power, and as long as Luna Lovegood was brave and beautiful and selfless, there would be no cabin in the mountains. They would not wake to cold toes and soft embraces, or be warmed by a love as infinite as the stars above them.


	8. eight

Theodore was leaning against the wall with his feet propped up on the one opposite. Luna, significantly shorter, was sitting a bit more comfortably on the stair below him. The blue flames flickering brightly in the jar hovering over his head made the yellowing pages of the thick healer’s anthology in his lap appear a sickly shade of green. 

While he was quite engrossed in the text, he could feel Luna watching him. When he looked up, he could see that she had set her rather battered copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ down beside her. 

“You must be thinking very hard.”

Healing spells were complicated. There were many different types of spells used for gashes and cuts, and none of them were interchangeable. For instance, if one were to use the wrong spell on a deep gash, the blood could continue to flow freely and pool up below the thin surface of newly mended skin. 

He was thinking hard, but he didn’t know it had been obvious. 

“You get a crease right,” Luna leaned forward, reaching up to smooth her thumb over the skin between his eyebrows, “here.” 

He could feel the wrinkled muscle relax under her touch. Her lips took the place of her thumb in a soft, delicate kiss, before settling back against the wall and returning her attention to her book. 

Theo tried to do the same, but he just kept reading the same sentence over and over.


	9. nine

The first few hours at Nott Manor were precarious. The melancholy quiet Theo knew as a boy had twisted into something darker, and was threatening to consume him by the time his father broke it over dinner, his voice casual as he disclosed the strength of the Dark Lord’s forces. Their footholds in the Ministry, Hogwarts, small villages. 

“That’s very impressive, Father.” Theo said, because he was expected to. 

“Yes,” Lyall Nott agreed, almost absent mindedly. His mind was elsewhere, and Theodore was naive enough to think that was the end of the conversation. But then his father’s gaze sharpened, “I hope this enthusiasm will continue when you return to Hogwarts.” 

Theodore nodded dully. “Of course, Father.” 

“No more distractions?” The man across from him raised an eyebrow.

Theo’s heart, beating too hard and too fast, echoed in his ears and drowned out the sound of his own voice, “I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Yes, you do.” His father’s tone was cold and angry, but then he took a drink, and it was as if it washed away any hint of a threat. Almost pleasantly, he said, “But that will no longer be a concern.” 

Theo’s lungs were too tight to expand, pull air in. Nothing in his chest was moving, paralyzed by something between horror and devastation. Any pretense of control he had been holding slipped through his fingers, shattered into pieces at his feet. “What did you do to her?” 

His father rolled his eyes in disdainful boredom. “Please, Theodore, don’t be so dramatic. Miss Lovegood is simply being… kept out of trouble.” 

Theo felt as though he was going to be sick. He could barely hold his father’s gaze, the stony eyes taking in his ashen hue, each uneven heave of his chest. 

“Oh, dear,” Lyall Nott sighed, not sounding troubled at all. “She really has gotten to you, hasn’t she?” 

Condescension dripped from the words, like any other time Theodore’s father sought to make him feel helpless. Except tonight, he truly was. There was a poisonous thing that lived inside him, handed down to him from the man across the table. And like most dangerous creatures, it did not like being trapped. 

A burst of anger uncoiled, merciless and ravenous. And sometimes, Theodore confused feeling angry with feeling bold. His voice was rough and sharp, “Where is she?” 

The master of Nott Manor’s eyebrows rose, an almost imperceptible gesture of surprise--Theodore had never raised his voice, spoken out of turn. But he recovered quickly, his expression shifting into something like understanding. “So that’s what it is.” 

His lip curled into a sneer, “Does she make you feel brave, boy?” 

There was a pause, before Lyall Nott started to laugh. A short chuckle that belonged to mildly amusing stories, or clever word puns. But he just said, “Does she make you wish you could be a better man?” 

_Yes._


	10. ten

Theodore found himself sitting on the thirty-ninth step of the staircase to nowhere more often than not. It was the only place in which he could still feel Luna’s presence, and if he closed his eyes, he could almost convince himself that she was still sitting across from him. 

He walked the familiar path with Luna’s copy of Fantastic Beasts tucked under his arm. She’d left it with him before going home for Christmas. 

“Look after it for me?” she’d asked of him, almost like she knew. 

He’d been poring over each wrinkled, tea-stained page ever since. He was less interested in the actual text than he was with the notes she’d scribbled into the margins or the small sketches she’d penciled in where there weren’t illustrations provided. He’d been shocked to see his own sharp, narrow face staring back at him on page 112. 

As Theodore rounded the corner, a piercing shriek stopped him in his tracks, and his blood turned cold. 

It had come from the staircase. 

Their shelter was now tainted, like everything else in this castle. 

He tripped over his own feet as he scrambled backward, trying to get away as fast as possible. As far away as possible. He ran all the way outside, but the screaming was still ringing in his ears. 

Theodore kicked off his shoes and waded into the Black Lake until he was up to his ankles in the water that was still clinging to winter. Without the sun’s rays to make the water gleam, it looked as dark and ominous as its name would suggest. Nothing like it was in the memory of yellow light sparkling on the surface of the water, and warming blonde hair on the last perfect afternoon in October.

He closed his eyes, trying to picture it, and hoped the numbness in his toes would spread.


End file.
